


Sweethearts for Slashers

by twitchtipthegnawer



Series: RFR Slasherverse [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Begging, Come Inflation, Feral Behavior, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchtipthegnawer/pseuds/twitchtipthegnawer
Summary: Single male, living in Nebraska. Likes cryptids, neo-paganism, pop culture occultism and long walks in dark and misty woods. Blond hair, introverted, and definitely not currently living at home with three of his four brothers. Looking for someone tall, dark, and ready to mangle anyone who looks at him funny. Big dicks preferable but negotiable if he's ripped enough. Bonus points for a tendency to tear clothing off and shove twinks against tree trunks.Alternatively titled: Recipe for Roadkill 1.5 No Context Required. This ficisa standalone and doesn't require you to read the other work(s) in the series to understand it!





	Sweethearts for Slashers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raphae11e](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raphae11e/gifts).



> Written for [Raphae11e](https://www.instagram.com/raphdoods/) about her OC Brutus as part of an art/writing trade. End notes contain some fuckin' amazing art by her because she's just that multitalented <3

On the right parts of the internet, urban legends became real. Websites existed with gristly photographs simply lying there, ready to prove that monsters were waiting just outside city limits, willing to pounce if given the opportunity. Adrian had always found them fascinating, but one in particular drew him in. Evidence for the existence of Brutus was pretty overwhelming; he’d gone on a killing spree that’d made the news not two months before.

But, more than that, Adrian had learned that he didn’t kill blonds. What he did with them instead was a bit shrouded in mystery; people liked to cry rape, but Adrian thought they were just looking for shock factor. Much more likely, Brutus simply left them alone. And this was what had Adrian packing his bags eagerly one friday night.

Golden blond hair was useful in plenty of situations. He didn’t see why it wouldn’t be useful here.

Getting permission to go camping for a week was easy. Both his parents were very busy people, and more than happy to get one of their kids out of the house. Convincing his brothers not to come with him, well that was another thing.

“Please?” Quentin asked sweetly, little hands clasped under his chin. At sixteen, he was the youngest, and always trying to tag along.

“It’s not safe for you,” Adrian replied seriously.

Quentin’s hair was closer to strawberry than Adrian’s true blond, and so he nodded morosely. Adrian wondered how much of any emotion Quentin displayed was serious; he seemed to be joking or exaggerating most of the time, but Adrian genuinely didn’t know on occasion. Still, his acquiescence meant Adrian was free to go.

He set his tent up in a small park in Nebraska, and waited. He only had three days to find Brutus, but thought that romping through the woods might not be the best method at first. Unfortunately, the campgrounds he’d selected were hardly deserted. Children ran around at the edge of an idyllic lake, while their parents sipped beers in the shadows of their trailers. In his tiny, much-used tent, Adrian pouted.

“Fine,” he declared to himself, as the sun set on Saturday night. “I’ll find him myself. If I make enough noise to scare off all the animals, that’ll just make him more likely to notice me, right?”

He could almost hear his oldest brother’s voice in his head, teasing him over the comment. “Notice me, senpai!”

But he set that aside, pulled on his white sneakers and maroon sweater, and set off. The eeriness of the woods didn’t really sink in until he’d walked far enough for the buzzing lights and muffled snores to fade away into chirping crickets and rustling leaves.

By the time he was having to deal with the reality of choosing to do this on a night with a full moon and late-fall chill, Adrian was thoroughly spooked. This was exactly what he’d wanted, though. He hadn’t exactly gotten into the occult because he _disliked_ getting the heebie-jeebies. And so, grin on his face and goosebumps on his arms, he aimed his flashlight at every cracking twig or whisper of wind he heard.

Truth be told, he expected to find a deer at best. So, when his flashlight beam illuminated a man with incredibly long, black hair, and a muzzle full of snarling teeth, well. He couldn’t react at all for a moment.

And then he stumbled backwards, light wheeling wildly as shock turned his arms to jelly. By the time he caught himself on a fallen tree, he was breathing hard.

“H-hello?” He said, rotating the light around him once more. The figure from before was gone.

“Brutus? Is that you?”

Breathing ruffled his short curls. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

The voice that rumbled over his skin was at once the most sensual and terrifying thing Adrian had ever heard. It was almost inhumanly low, the growl pure animalistic hunger, but the _heat_ in it spoke of some of Adrian’s favorite late nights. A grin grew on Adrian’s face even as his pulse picked up the pace.

And then he took off running.

Plenty of times, he’d seen people talk about how you shouldn’t run from a predator. _Especially_ one you’d provoked. Backing away, slowly, not averting your eyes - so many strategies for survival. But Adrian was already fairly assured of his.

In order to get the outcome he wanted, he thought he might need to poke the beast, so to speak. And if it meant that he was sweating and shaking with adrenaline, well, all the better.

It took a long time for Brutus to catch him, which was probably more a function of Brutus wanting to play with his food than anything else. But as time went on, and Adrian’s legs felt more and more fawn-like, unstable, the heavy breathing and quiet grunts he heard in the trees above him and from the shrubbery surrounding him got closer and closer.

But very abruptly, the chase came to an end when something snagged the back of Adrian’s sweatshirt. He choked as he was hoisted into the air, clawing at the neckline to try to give himself breathing room. His feet kicked wildly, more reflex than anything, still trying to run away from the fate Adrian had all but begged for.

“Delicate little thing,” Brutus said. He watched Adrian gasp for air, both because of exertion and because of the way he was being held. Adrian shivered under his attention.

Since he didn’t seem inclined to do anything else, however, Adrian steeled himself. He made himself go as limp as he could manage, watched Brutus from the corner of his eye as he slowly, slowly tilted his head to the side. Exposing his neck.

Even that mostly got Brutus to go still. So, in a voice gone raspy, Adrian whispered, “I heard what you do to ‘delicate little things.’ I want you to show me.”

A thrill ran through him when Brutus dropped him on the ground. It seemed he was going to get his wish.

Brutus wasted no time in pinning Adrian to the dirt and draping his body over the much smaller boy. Adrian loved the weight of it, how Brutus could easily cover him entirely. He easily allowed himself to be manhandled onto his hands and knees, relishing the sharp edges of Brutus’ muzzle pressing to the back of his neck. “Hey, don’t you wanna bite me?” He asked, almost giddy with what was about to happen.

It was either the exact wrong or exact right thing to say. Brutus grabbed his hair, huge hand enveloping the back of his head completely, and shoved his face into the earth. Adrian let his elbows give out easily, but in retaliation tried to lift his hips high enough to grind back against Brutus’s cock.

The bare glance he’d gotten at Brutus before hadn’t really done justice to him. Even though his olive pants, Adrian could feel the corded muscles flexing in his thighs. The slashes in his tank top left a few strips of his skin rubbing up against where Adrian’s sweatshirt had ridden up, and the heat of Brutus’ skin was absolutely shocking. Adrian couldn’t get enough of it.

Looking back through the veil of Brutus’ hair that’d fallen around them, Adrian could see his huge boots digging into the ground, leaving behind deep gouges. There was no way he’d be able to get out from under him, and the thought had a high whimper sneaking out of his throat. All Brutus gave him in response was a throaty chuckle that went straight to his dick.

As did the realization that anyone could walk past them at any moment. It was late, and they were pretty far from the majority of campers, but the night was bright enough that someone might actually catch them before Brutus could hear them coming. Especially if -

Adrian whined when one hand slipped from his head to the back of his neck and squeezed.

Especially if Brutus kept encouraging him to make sounds like _that._

“You sound like a wounded pup,” Brutus said, as though he could read Adrian’s mind.

Unable to hold back anymore, Adrian burst out, “Break me, please _break_ me, _oh god please - ”_

He was cut off when Brutus stuffed two thick, rough fingers in his mouth. “A pup and a _whore,”_ he said, with inflection so strange Adrian didn’t know whether to read it as disgust or arousal. That was fine by him; he could feel Brutus hardening as he ground his (rather soft and round, if he did say so himself) ass backwards. Thank fuck he’d been wearing jeggings instead of proper jeans. The give to them was _perfect._

That didn’t mean his dick _wasn’t_ uncomfortably constrained, but he was more focused on how it felt when Brutus just straight up raked his nails through the fabric and opened rents in it through which he could grope Adrian’s ass. It stung where those claws had scraped his skin too, but the burn was more than welcome.

Once again, Brutus showed his wild sensibilities and ducked his head close to Adrian’s hole, as if - as if he wanted to eat him out. Adrian’s mewl conveyed pretty clearly that he both missed the fingers fucking his mouth and wanted desperately for the muzzle to be off of Brutus’ face. But neither of his implied requests were granted.

“I g-got myself ready for you,” he explained, when Brutus did nothing for a long moment. “Didn’t wanna make you wait. You can just - just fuck me, mmnh, fill me up, please, you feel so _b-big.”_

For a split second Adrian’s back went cold, and anxiety spiked through his belly. Had he said something wrong? Had he turned Brutus off, or worse - truly angered him? Was the desperation a bad thing? But when he turned his head, he instead saw Brutus undoing his heavy, leather belt. It fell open and Adrian’s mouth went dry in the best way.

His cock was like everything else about him. Wild, from Adrian’s point of view. Uncircumsized, which Adrian had never felt inside him before, and with an untrimmed, black bush Adrian wanted to bury his face in. His mouth watered, smelling dark musk and wishing this could give Brutus a blowjob (he was good at it, he knew he’d be memorable). But most of all, Brutus was _huge._ Overwhelmingly thick and long and curving tantalizingly.

“Oh, fuck,” Adrian breathed. “Fuck me.”

A single, barking laugh answered him, as if to say, _I intend to._

Adrian was torn between relief and disappointment that Brutus got right down to it, fucking into him doggy-style. Appropriate, even if it left a heavy ache in his belly.

And then he started thrusting. Hard, and fast, so much so that the air was punched out of Adrian’s lungs each time. He could feel it in his _throat,_ which made all the begging he wanted to do much harder. Still, he managed to choke out, “Please touch me, please touch me, please - ”

This time, Brutus squeezed his throat to shut him up. It cut off Adrian’s air for so long that he went lightheaded, blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision. He could feel himself tightening around Brutus’ cock and thought this was so much more hot than it was frightening.

Just as passing out was beginning to become a concern, Brutus slipped his fingers back into Adrian’s mouth. They filled him up perfectly, going down his throat like he’d wanted Brutus’ cock to earlier. And now that he was being fucked on both ends, he had a moment to focus on the taste, earthy and a bit salty and entirely too good.

Despite all the positives, Brutus was an overwhelmingly selfish fuck. He pistoned his hips at a constant rate so hard Adrian thought he was bruising inside and out. The hand wrapping around his ribs to help hold him in place certainly dug in enough to be painful, and Adrian _adored_ the way he could all but feel his bones creak under the pressure of Brutus’ grip.

Coming without having his cock touched hadn’t ever really been a possibility for Adrian. Brutus wasn’t trying to pay particular attention to his prostate, either, but the simple size of his cock made it impossible _not_ to mewl each time he happened to brush over it.

And so, to his shock, Adrian realized he was dripping precome into his pants. They were almost soaked through by now, a mess he knew would be sweet torture to walk back to his tent in.

His thoughts, dirty as they were, were knocked right out of his head when Brutus spoke into his ear, even more guttural than before thanks to the pleasure. “I’ve seen pretty little things like you before,” he said. “Wandering into my woods, thinking you can _tame_ me.”

“Uh-uh,” Adrian replied, jaw pulled wide and voice breathless.

Another harsh thrust discouraged him from elaborating. He wanted to tell Brutus that this wildness was why he’d gone looking for him; that Adrian wanted nothing more than to be bent over and bred whenever Brutus felt like it, that this was a dream come true, that if Brutus wanted to use him up until he was raw and bleeding he’d thank him. But all he could manage was a whorish moan that got Brutus’ cock to feel like it was, impossibly, growing harder inside him, and he decided that’d have to do.

 _In, out,_ a simple rhythm with no finesse. Despite that, it sped up, and Adrien had to dig his fingers into the ground to keep himself from being dragged across it.

 _In, out._ His knees were skinned, jeggings ripped there too. Dirt under his nails. He really should’ve focused on his breathing, instead of on his fantasies for a minute there.

 _In and out and in and out and in, in, in._ How could Brutus be getting so _deep?_

For the first time in his life Adrian came before his partner, keening out a broken cry that may or may not have been Brutus’ name. It was worryingly loud, and yet Brutus seemed to think this was nothing to worry about. In fact, he redoubled his efforts. This was good when Adrian was still dealing with the gut churning pleasure, trying to compute how his legs were cramping where they’d been held so tense and how his cock was now soaking in his come and how his brain felt alight and buzzing, but quickly became too much.

Overwhelmed and oversensitive, Adrian actually tried to scramble across the dirt to get away from the dick relentlessly pounding away at him, but Brutus easily held him in place. He even let go of where his fingers had been soaking in Adrian’s drool, to instead run one broad palm in a long, firm, soothing stripe down his spine. It made Adrian’s muscles melt like butter.

“Come inside me?” Adrian asked, when he’d gone limp enough for Brutus to do as he pleased with once more. “Please, fill me up? I want to feel you for _days.”_

That seemed to be the magic phrase, for Adrian was getting his wish in the next moment. Again Brutus pressed his muzzle to the nape of Adrian’s neck as though wishing to bite (or kiss) him, and again Adrian’s body felt ready to collapse.

In the darkness of the night, Brutus’ orgasm seemed to last a long time. Adrian’s stomach felt heavy and warm with his come, though there was no external sign of how much had been poured into him. He didn’t want to move. Staying there, letting Brutus keep him warm even as he’d ruined him, it was nice.

For just a little while, myths were real. Not on the internet, or in his mind, but in his _body,_ around him, huffing breaths through the nose and smelling of tree sap.

Of course, it couldn’t last long. Brutus pulled out with a grunt, and a thick trickle of hot cum dripped down Adrian’s thigh after him.

Shivering once more, Adrian tried to get himself to his feet. He didn’t quite manage it, but he did make it to his knees, and turned around to face Brutus once more.

Maybe it was appropriate that he said goodbye to Brutus like this. Kneeling.

The thought made him grin.

“That’s all you got?” He teased, still panting between each word.

“Don’t push your luck, little one,” Brutus growled.

Adrian bit his lip and swallowed hard. Brutus nodded, apparently satisfied that Adrian was being obedient, and turned to walk away. Like this, he seemed even taller and broader than before. Larger than life.

Whether or not it was because of Brutus’ order, he couldn’t say. But despite the words on the tip of his tongue, Adrian couldn’t manage to make another sound. So he decided something for himself; he would come back here, someday. He didn’t need to ask Brutus for permission or find out if it would annoy the cryptid of a man. He was blond - he was safe.

Yes, someday, he would come back. He’d find Brutus once more, and _indulge_ himself.

With that thought (and a bellyful of come) keeping him warm, he trudged back to camp, pulling his sweatshirt down over the torn rear of his pants the whole way.

**Author's Note:**

>  


End file.
